See No Evil
by The Madness Behind
Summary: Beyond Birthday had the eyes of a God. It couldn't really be called a gift, because he never asked for it. It was more like a curse.
1. The Numbers Never Lie

_Prologue_

"Please come out of there, hun."

"There's nothing to be afraid of."

"Nobody's going to hurt you."

No matter what was said, the small raven-haired boy refused to come out from under the desk where he was hiding. Instead, he drew his knees up protectively against his chest and buried his face in his arms.

None of the social services workers in the room could figure out what he was so afraid of. He had been doing fine, it seemed, until Officer Andrews, one of the resource officers who worked in the Social Services building with them, had come into the room. For some reason, this had scared the boy out of his mind.

"Listen," said a kindly older woman, "if you come out, I promise you'll be safe, all right?"

Slowly, warily, the boy nodded. He inched out from under the desk and stood up shakily.

"There." The woman smiled. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

The boy turned and looked around the room. When he saw Officer Andrews, who was standing in the back of the room, his eyes widened in fright and he dove back under the desk again.

"What's wrong?" asked one of the social workers. "What are you so afraid of?"

After a moment, the boy reached up and felt around the top of the desk until he found a pen and a notepad, which he dragged down to where he was.

One of the difficulties that the social workers had encountered with this boy was that he was mute. He would write on pieces of paper to communicate with them, since he didn't know sign language.

The boy scribbled something on the notepad and held it up to show the social workers:

**I don't want to see him.**

"Who?" asked a man.

The boy reached out an arm over the top of the desk and pointed in Andrews's general direction.

"Why don't you want to see him, hun?" asked the kindly social worker.

More frantic scribbling. When the raven-haired boy held up the notepad again, the message written on it was very weird:

**I don't like what happens when the numbers run out.**

"What does that mean?" asked one of the social workers.

The boy shook his head, and then buried his face in his arms again and dropped the notepad on the floor.

Officer Andrews, sensing that something was wrong, spoke up. "I'll…uh…go," he said uncomfortably. He needed a smoke anyway – sometimes working in this building could really give a guy a nasty headache…

Once he was outside, Andrews pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and opened it.

Why was the kid inside so afraid of him? Andrews was sure he'd never met him. Maybe he was scared of cops?

The officer felt around in his pockets. Damn, he didn't have a lighter. He looked around. There was a convenience store across the street. He could probably get one from there.

As he waited for the signal to change, Andrews thought about the boy again. He was a strange one, indeed – especially his eyes. They were _red_. Well, not blood-red, but more of a coppery color.

Vaguely, absent-mindedly, Andrews saw the signal change to green. He stepped into the street.

Really, the eyes were just _creepy_.

Officer Darrell J. Andrews was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't see the bus coming towards him until it was too late.

The squeal of the vehicle's brakes, the sickening crunch, the woman on the sidewalk screaming – all of these made it through the second-floor window of the social services building. Into the ears of the raven-haired, copper-eyed boy still hiding under the desk.

Hugging his knees closer, Beyond Birthday shuddered.

The numbers never lied…

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All right. This is just the prologue. I'll have the first real chapter up soon.

Beyond Birthday is such an awesome character. I'm going to have fun with this one.

Thanks to NoWaitAuthor for beta-ing.


	2. Backup

Roger Ruvie loved bugs.

Some of the children at the orphanage referred to him as 'The Antichrist' because he hated children and loved insects so much. But Roger put up with it because Quillish had asked him to, and that trumped any dislike the old man may have had for his job. They were, after all, training the human embodiments of justice.

The old caretaker was in the middle of placing a new specimen of the Amazon Darner dragonfly in the display case next to his desk when there was a knock on his door.

"Yes?" Roger said, not looking up from his work. It was probably another orphan complaining about some pointless grievance or other that had occurred on the playground.

The door opened and Roger heard the voice of his assistant, Anthias Blaine.

"Roger, I just got a call from a social worker in America," Blaine said. He was an older man with a mane of fiery red hair who handled bringing the new orphans to Wammy's. "They've recommended a new child to us."

Sighing, Roger walked over to his desk and sat down – _Anax junius_ would have to wait for a moment. "What did they tell you?"

"He's a seven-year-old in foster care in Los Angeles," said Blaine. "The foster parents kept calling social services and saying that something was wrong with the kid."

Roger nodded, placing the tips of his fingers together pensively. "What sort of things?" he asked.

"He talks about stuff that no child twice his age would understand," Blaine said. "Or, rather, he writes about it – he's mute. But still...Apparently he's got a major fixation on riddles. "The social worker, Marie – you remember her, don't you Roger? – said that it seems like some sort of defense mechanism: if he gets too uncomfortable with what he's talking about, he'll start talking to you in riddles. Er, writing, I mean."

"Interesting, but being a good riddle-maker isn't really a qualification for L's successor," said Roger.

Blaine nodded. "I know," he said. "They also said he's done some weird things around the foster home. According to Marie, the kid is being home-schooled, and he knows more than the foster parents."

Roger shrugged slightly. "That's not too remarkable, really – people these days aren't very well educated, are they?"

"Roger, she said they brought her a paper he'd written that explained the meaning of what Socrates wrote in _The Republic_," said Blaine. "He spends a lot of his time reading medical books, too, according to the parents. Marie also said that the first time he was in her office, he did an entire collection book of crossword puzzles in less than half an hour."

"What's his name?" asked Roger. "Do you have any previous schooling records for him?"

"Yes," said Blaine. "His name is – and don't laugh, because I'm being dead serious, Roger – Beyond Birthday. Marie faxed me some of his schooling records, too. Beyond is, well, _beyond_ smart. Granted, he only officially attended kindergarten, but there are reports from teachers that he started coming to ninth-grade after-school classes and asking if he could do the same work as the older kids." He paused. "Well, they decided to humor him, and gave him some work to do – and he got a perfect score on everything."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Interesting," he said. "Did they say what happened to his real parents?"

"Murdered," Blaine said. "They were killed in front of him during a home invasion a few months ago. He hasn't spoken since then."

"What does he look like?"

Blaine's face turned into an expression of surprise. "Oh, that's the other thing." He handed Roger a sheet of paper with a scan of a photograph on it.

For a moment, Roger thought he was looking at a photograph of L Lawliet, a former resident of Wammy's who went by the name of 'Lost'. Then he saw the dark red eyes and the subtle differences in facial structure. On the corner of the boy's mouth was a spot of something red.

"That was taken last year," said Blaine. "School photo."

Roger handed the paper back to Blaine. "Talk to him," he said. "I want to know what he's like before we bring him here."

Blaine nodded. "I'll do that," he said.

"One other thing," said Roger. "He needs a name. I have one in mind."

"Already?" asked Blaine. "What is it?"

"He looks exactly like L…no, a copy of L," Roger said. "He is a backup copy of L, in a way. So we will call him 'Backup.'"

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If asked to draw the human body, most young children will, according to studies, depict the body as a sort of hollow reservoir which holds blood, food, and waste. The heart is the shape of a valentine's day card, and the stomach takes up the entire lower midsection.

Beyond Birthday, obviously, was not most children.

Tacked to the walls of his bedroom were hand-drawn, incredibly detailed sketches of various human body parts. On top of his bookshelf were several more sketches, piled neatly onto each other with a book as a paperweight.

The seven-year-old was at his desk, hunched over a sketch of the human muscular system that he had been working on for two days. Beyond was vaguely aware that he also hadn't eaten or slept in two days, but it was a very trivial matter at the moment. He had his strawberry jam. That was all he needed.

Beyond put his pencil down and stuck a finger in the jam jar that was holding down the top left corner of his sketch. As he brought the finger to his mouth, some of the jam dripped off of his finger and landed on the drawing. He didn't mind. The red made it look more…alive.

He stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked the rest of the jam off of it. The left pectoralis major needed more shading, he decided, and picked up his pencil. Beyond had just touched the tip of the graphite to the paper when he heard a knock on his door.

Before Beyond could even decide that he didn't want whoever it was to come in, the door opened and he heard someone speak.

"Beyond." It was his foster mother, Janette Jonesville.

Beyond didn't even glance at the notepad on the corner of the desk – a sign that he didn't feel like communicating in any way with anybody.

"Beyond, I'm talking to you," said Janette. Beyond heard her footsteps as she walked further into the room.

He would rather she just left him alone. People weren't fun to be around. Sure, Beyond loved to study the human body and mind, but he found he had no capacity to interact with others in real life. Nor did he have any real desire to.

"You can't stay in your room all day, Beyond," Janette said. She placed a hand on Beyond's shoulder, and the boy instinctively shoved her away. He didn't like being touched. Janette bit her lip. "We have to go over to Social Services again. There's a man who wants to meet you."

Beyond picked up the notepad and scribbled on it. **I want to keep doing this**, he wrote, and gestured at his mostly-completed sketch.

Janette sighed. "You can finish it when you get back, all right?" she said.

**Why does the man want to see me?**

"I'm not sure, Beyond. We'll find out when we get there. Come on."

**I don't want to go**, Beyond messaged. **I don't like it there.**

"You don't like it _anywhere_, Beyond," Janette said in tones of exasperation. "Every time I even try to get you to socialize with the rest of my family, you just run back up to your room again!"

Beyond glared at her. 'My family' meant her husband Jared and their two biological children, Joshua and Janice. Jared was a lawyer, and was usually out working until about seven-thirty in the evening. Joshua and Janice were ten and eleven, respectively. They made it quite clear that they thought Beyond was a freak.

**I like my room**, wrote Beyond. **I would prefer to stay in it.** He placed the notepad on the desk and folded his arms across his chest.

Janette sighed again. "I'm not going to play this game with you right now," she said. "If you don't go with me, I won't give you any of that god-forsaken jam you eat for the next month. Understand?"

Beyond considered this. There were other ways he could get strawberry jam, but he wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of stealing. Besides, there was a chance that Janette would get rid of the jam jars she kept in the cupboard entirely, which meant that Beyond would have no way of getting it, regardless.

Finally, Beyond picked up the notepad again.** All right**, he wrote. **I'll go.** He put the top on his jam jar, placed under his arm, and stood up. If he was going out, he'd at least take his strawberry jam with him.

"You can't bring that with you, Beyond…" Janette began, but the boy had already shuffled through the door.

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"If there's anything you need, Mr. Baxter, just call."

Anthias Blaine (AKA 'Arthur Baxter') nodded as he opened the file folder on the table in front of him. "Thank you," he said.

"We'll send him in when he and his mother arrive," said the rather short, toadlike woman in the doorway.

"That will be fine, thank you," Blaine said. When the woman had left, closing the door behind her, he looked down at the files in front of him.

_Name: Beyond Birthday_

_DOB: 2/29/1984_

_St. Catherine's Hospital, Los Angeles, California_

_Blood type: AB_

_Currently resides at 3762 Westlane Rd. with his foster parents, Jacob and Janette Jonesville._

Obscuring the rest of the information was a more recent photograph of Beyond that had been taken by his foster mother. The boy had a completely blank expression on his face, his onyx-colored eyes focused on something outside of the photograph. Near his left hand, on the table behind him, was a large jar of something red. Strawberry jam.

Aside from the red eyes, Beyond Birthday bore an uncanny resemblance to Lost. Even the traits that Marie had described to him – shy, obsessive, insomniac, ridiculously intelligent – reminded him of the twelve-year-old who was known to the world as the greatest detective who ever lived.

Anthias Blaine had first met L in the summer of 1987, when L was eight years old. L had been discovered by 'Watari', an old friend of Roger's and Blaine's, in a London orphanage, where he was considered by both the staff and residents to be profoundly retarded. Had Watari not recognized the young boy's potential and rescued him, L probably would have died within a few years.

It was heart-wrenching, some of the stories that accompanied these children. V, one of the earliest residents of Wammy's House, had been one of the saddest. He had a brilliant mind, but had been so horribly abused as a mere toddler that he was terrified of human contact. There was I, a girl confined to a wheelchair who had come to the house last year. Her legs had been rendered useless by a car accident. Possibly the most disturbing case was that of O. O's chest, neck, back, shoulders, and arms were crisscrossed with tiny scars that looked like they had been made carefully, meticulously, one-at-a-time. No one knew what these had been caused by, and he refused to tell.

Blaine knew that most of the Wammy's kids would never be able to function in the real world without help – they were _too_ smart. Wammy's was, truly, their only hope. The main goal of Wammy's was to produce a successor for L. Of course, there could be only one successor out of a hundred kids, so most of them would end up doing other things. Some became detectives themselves. Others went into practices like medicine, aviation, and law.

F was the only failure that Wammy's House had ever produced. He had run away at age fifteen, and was never heard from again. Blaine sometimes wondered what had happened to him, but he supposed that he had the right to live life the way he wanted, in the end.

They all did, really. Or they should.

The door swung open and that toadlike woman appeared again. "He's here, Mr. Baxter," she said.

Blaine closed the folder containing Beyond Birthday's files. "Send him in," he said.

The woman disappeared. Blaine waited for a few moments.

A small boy shuffled into the room. He had wild black hair and reddish-brown eyes. Clutched tightly in his hands was a large jar of what Blaine guessed was strawberry jam.

Beyond Birthday.

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Yay, it's up.

A random note: I wrote the third scene of this chapter while eating strawberry jam.

It was good.

Thanks to NoWaitAuthor for beta-reading.


	3. An Invitation

Beyond didn't want to go into the room by himself. He didn't want to go in at all, but the fact that he would have to be alone with someone he'd never met made it a thousand times worse. Eventually, Janette reminded him of her threat to revoke his right to eat jam, and he (very reluctantly) agreed to go in.

There was an old man sitting at the table in the middle of the room. He had red hair and spectacles, and wore a brown suit. Beyond couldn't see his name or numbers because he was sitting in front of a window and the sun was right behind his head, making it impossible to read the red markings.

As he shuffled towards the table, clutching his jam jar tightly against his chest, Beyond heard a very loud _bang_. He jumped and turned his head to find the source of the noise, which proved to be the door closing behind him. The boy shivered a little, realizing he was locked in a room with a complete stranger and no way out.

"Sit down," said the strange man, gesturing at a chair on the opposite side of the table. Beyond hugged his jam jar a little tighter and sat in the chair. It was a very old chair, and it wasn't very comfortable, so he tried to find a sitting position that better suited him. Finally, he settled on a rather odd position where one of his knees was drawn up against his chest, and looked at the man.

Now that he was looking at the man from a different angle, Beyond could read his name and the little numbers over his head:

_A n t h i a s B l a i n e_

_4 0 6 1 3 9 1 1 3_

Anthias Blaine closed the file folder in front of him. "My name is Anthias Blaine," he said, unaware that Beyond already knew his name. "You must be Beyond Birthday." He pushed a notepad and pen over to Beyond, who flattened himself against the back of the chair until Blaine's hand had returned to his side. "You can write on this if you have questions, okay?"

Beyond nodded hesitantly. Then he re-arranged his position on the chair, as the previous one had become rather uncomfortable, and unscrewed the top of his jam jar. Eating jam helped him when he was nervous or upset.

"I'm a representative of an establishment that cares for children like yourself," Blaine continued. "It's called 'The Wammy's House'."

Children like Beyond?

What if Wammy's House was some kind of… mental hospital or something? Joshua and Janice had told him repeatedly that he was going to be taken away to a madhouse someday. Was it finally happening?

"I've heard that you're very smart," Blaine said. "Is that true, Beyond?"

Beyond picked up the pen and began writing: **I'm not sure.**

He stuck a finger in his jam jar and lifted it to his mouth. What Beyond had written was true. He knew he was intelligent, but he was also completely useless at most 'normal' things. It made him feel worse, in a way, when he could do university-level math equations in his head but couldn't tie his own shoes.

Blaine pointed at the jam jar, and then at Beyond's red-stained fingers. "Don't you think it's a little strange to be eating that right out of the jar?" he asked as Beyond shifted into a new sitting position.

**Maybe**, Beyond wrote. **It helps me think.**

"I see."

Beyond stuck his thumb in his mouth and licked some of the jam off of it. Then he bit down very hard on it, hoping the pain would distract him from his current anxiety.

"Beyond, do you like your foster home?" asked Blaine.

The pen scratched away yet again, and some jam dripped down from Beyond's fingers onto the paper as he wrote. **No. I don't like it very much.**

Blaine gave what Beyond guessed was supposed to be a sympathetic look. "Why don't you like it?"

**I am treated as though I am abnormal**, wrote Beyond. **As though there is something wrong with me. I do not like it. **He bit his finger again, very hard.

"I see…"

Beyond watched the _3 _at the end of Blaine's numbers morph into a _2_. He could never figure out how they worked; all he knew was that they weren't like normal numbers. Sometimes the ones in the middle would change and the ones at the end wouldn't. It baffled him. When he was younger, Beyond had tried to calculate what the numbers would be in regular time (because he was sure that they were a measurement of time) but that, too, failed.

When he was young, very young, Beyond had thought that everyone saw the way he did. His parents, Before and Between Birthday, assumed that he had an overactive imagination, and didn't question his rather odd comments about the numbers and names. The first time that Beyond even realized he was different was on his first day of kindergarten.

"_Remember, if you need anything, just call me," Between said, holding up her cell phone (apparently cell phones were becoming popular, despite the fact that they were twice the size of the walkie-talkies that Beyond had a set of at home) to show Beyond. "I'll have it on all day, okay?"_

_Beyond nodded enthusiastically. He was very excited about his first day of school – so excited that he had gotten up almost two hours early to get ready._

"_Good. Do you want me to come in with you?"_

"_No, I think I'll be all right," said Beyond. He smiled. "I love you, Mommy."_

_Between leaned over and kissed her son on the forehead. "I love you too, Beyond," she said. "Have a wonderful day."_

"_Bye!" Beyond called as he hopped rather clumsily out of the car and began walking towards the school's front doors. He couldn't wait to start – what would they be learning? What would he get to do? Maybe he could have friends!_

_Beyond smiled at this thought._

_It took him a little while to find the kindergarten classroom. When he did, there were already a couple of people sitting in a semicircle inside the room, and so he guessed that class had started and he was late._

"_Sorry," he said to the woman that he supposed was probably the teacher. "I didn't mean to be late…I got lost."_

"_That's all right," the woman said in a kind voice. "You're not late. Just sit in front of me and wait for everyone else to get here, okay?"_

_Beyond nodded and sat down next to a girl with her hair in a ponytail. She looked nervous, so he smiled at her a little, and looked up above her head._

_S a l l y P a s c h a w_

_7 1 8 5 3 7 7 4 3 8 1_

_A blond boy in a red tee-shirt sat down on Beyond's other side:_

_F r e d r i c k R o n i n_

_1 4 3 6_

_This intrigued Beyond, as he had never seen someone with such low numbers before. He considered asking him about it – maybe he knew what happened when they finished counting down – but then he realized it might be taken as rude, so he didn't ask._

_Fredrick Ronin turned and looked past Beyond. "It's okay, Sally," he said to the nervous girl with the ponytail. "You can come sit next to me if you want." He looked at Beyond. "Could you switch places with my friend?"_

"_Sure," Beyond said, smiling. Sally got up and Beyond scooted over to her spot as she sat down where he had been. His new neighbor was a girl with short brown hair and a pink sweatshirt._

_H a n n a h L o s k i n s_

_4 1 2 0 4 8 5 1 1 0 1 9_

_After all the children had arrived in the room (there were seventeen of them), the teacher quieted the ones that were talking. She was a youthful, pleasant-looking woman with brown hair and a perpetual smile on her face._

"_My name is Ms. Swistene," she said. Beyond already knew this – after all, her name was written in red letters above her head._

_A n t o i n e t t e S w i s t e n e_

_9 7 4 0 8 1 3 0 0_

"_It's lovely to have all of you in my class," Ms. Swistene continued. "I'm sure we're going to have a wonderful year together." She clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "Well, why don't we all get to know each other, then? We can make it a game. Each person will say their name and one interesting thing about themselves. I'll start, and then we'll go clockwise – that means towards the right – around the circle." Ms. Swistene pointed at herself. "I'm Ms. Swistene, and I came in third place in the Tour De France bicycle race a few years ago." She pointed at a brown-haired boy whose marker said 'Charles Kisten'. "You go next, okay?"_

_Charles Kisten looked nervous. "I-I-I'm Charles…and I like…um…soccer…I guess…"_

"_Very good," said Ms. Swistene, and she smiled at Charles. "Who's next?"_

_The blond haired boy who had asked Beyond to change places with his friend, Fredrick Ronin, spoke. "My name is Fredrick," he said. "I used to live in England."_

_Ms. Swistene smiled. "That's interesting, Fredrick," she said._

_Fredrick smiled as well, and gently nudged his friend Sally, who looked like she wanted to run out of the room._

"_I'm…I'm Sally…" she mumbled. "I…er…" She blushed and hid her face. Fredrick took her hand and squeezed it, and she looked reassured. "My best friend is Fredrick."_

"_That's very nice," Ms. Swistene said. "Who's next, then?"_

"_I am!" Beyond chirped, grinning happily. "I'm Beyond, and I like to draw!"_

_Ms. Swistene blinked. "…Beyond? That's cute. What's your real name?"_

_Beyond was a little confused. "My real name is Beyond," he said. "Can't you see it?"_

"…_Oh, that's right," said Ms. Swistene. "Beyond Birthday. I'm sorry, you were added to my roster so late, and…"_

"_It's okay!" said Beyond, who assumed, of course, that she had looked above his head and seen his name._

"_You have a weird name," one of the other kids exclaimed._

"_Don't be mean," Ms. Swistene scolded the boy. "Now, on with the game!"_

_Beyond listened to some of the kids as they rattled off their names (which he already knew) and some random fact about themselves._

"_I'm Marissa, and I like to listen to Beethoven with my dad!"_

"_I'm Bill and I hate bugs."_

"_I like to play video games…Oh, and my name is George."_

"_I'm Wendy, and I really like to swim."_

_Beyond blinked. He looked at the girl who had identified herself as Wendy again. No, that was definitely __**not**__ her name. The marker above her head said 'Martha Kent'._

"_My name is Arthur Quinn and I love to play go fish."_

_Why was no one pointing out that Wendy was not that girl's real name? Were they not supposed to talk about it? Had no one noticed? Beyond was confused._

"_My name is Dale Chuckworth and I - "_

"_That's not her real name..."_

_Most of the class looked at Beyond._

"_Excuse me?" said Ms. Swistene politely._

"_That's not her real name," Beyond repeated, a little louder. He pointed at the girl who had called herself Wendy. "Her name is Martha…"_

"_I…what?" Ms. Swistene looked rather confused. "What are you talking about?" She took a piece of paper off her desk and read down it. "There's no one named Martha on here, Beyond."_

_Beyond jerked his finger insistently in the girl's direction. "But it says her name's Martha Kent…I'm telling the truth…"_

_Martha Kent looked scared. She bit her lip and glanced at Beyond. Beyond himself was now thoroughly confused, and a little worried. Had he missed some instruction that they weren't supposed to acknowledge that her name was false? He couldn't have…could he?_

"_Beyond, I'm confused. Do you know Wendy?" asked Ms. Swistene._

"_Martha!" Beyond insisted, jabbing his finger at Martha Kent again. "Her name's Martha!" Why were they all acting clueless? Her name was right there!_

_Most of the class was looking at either Beyond or Martha/Wendy. Ms. Swistene looked like she didn't really understand what was going on._

"_Wendy," she said, "do you know what Beyond means by that?"_

_Martha shook her head slowly, jerkily._

"_Her name isn't Wendy," whined Beyond. "Why won't you believe me? Martha Kent! Seven zero one one nine three four - "_

_Martha started to cry. Beyond immediately felt terrible; he hadn't meant to make her cry. Suddenly he just wished he had left it alone._

"_How d-do you know m-my name?" Martha blubbered through her tears. "They said n-no one knew us here! The p-police! They gave us new n-names and everything b-because Daddy saw that man get killed and they said no one would know us!"_

"_You made her cry!" one of the boys on the other side of the circle said. "You're not supposed to make girls cry!"_

"_I'm sorry…" Beyond mumbled, wishing he could just sink into the floor. "I-I didn't mean to…"_

"_Beyond, how did you know Wendy's real name?" asked Ms. Swistene. _

_Beyond stared up at her. "It's right there," he said in a cracked voice, pointing at a spot several inches above Martha's head. "Can't you see it?"_

_The girls on either side of Beyond both moved away slightly, as if they were frightened by him._

"_There's nothing there, Beyond," said Ms. Swistene. "Don't play games."_

"_I'm not playing games!" Beyond protested, tears sliding down his cheeks. "It's right there! I'm not lying!"_

"_Beyond, I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_Beyond bit his lip so hard it bled. "You can't see them, can you?"_

"_See _what_, Beyond?" Ms. Swistene looked like she was at the end of her patience._

"_The names and numbers…" Beyond whispered. "You can't see them…can you?"_

_Ms. Swistene ran her hands through her hair. "I can't see any names and numbers besides the ones on the board," she said. "Is that what you mean?"_

"_No!" Why didn't she just get it? "I can see all of your names! And your numbers! They're right above your heads!"_

_A few of the kids giggled. Beyond heard someone whisper, "Weirdo."_

_And, at that moment, he realized that he was very different from everyone else._

Beyond inserted a jam-covered finger into his mouth, licked it clean, and then picked up the pen and notepad again. He had been doodling on the paper while he thought, so he flipped to a new page.

**What is Wammy's House, exactly?** he asked.

"It's an orphanage," said Blaine. "For extremely gifted children."

**And you want me to come there because you think I'm gifted?**

Blaine nodded. "I think you're very smart," he said. "You'll be provided for in every way necessary. Wammy's House is also a boarding school as well, so you'll receive top-quality schooling. On that topic – I'm guessing you felt rather out-of-place in school and in your homeschooling?"

**Yes, I did**, Beyond wrote. Public school had been a nightmare for him, and his home-schooling with Janette was pointless, because he knew more than her about everything she tried to teach him.

"Wammy's House is different, Beyond. The curriculum there is set up specifically for kids like you – kids who are ahead of everyone else your age."

Beyond dipped the pen in the jar and put the end in his mouth, sucking the jam off of it. **What are the children like at Wammy's House?** he asked after a moment.

Blaine smiled. "They're just like you, Beyond," he told the boy. "I think you'd fit in much better with the kids at Wammy's."

**Will I be allowed to eat jam during my classes?**

"If…if you want to…I suppose it wouldn't be against the rules…"

Beyond shifted his position on the chair again, and finally found one that was actually comfortable. **Thank you.**

"Not at all…so, Beyond, do you want to come live at Wammy's House?" asked Blaine. "We already spoke with your foster parents – they agreed that it would be in your best interests for you to go, since they've realized that they're not equipped for your needs."

Beyond bit his finger again, and kept it between his teeth until he tasted blood. He didn't trust Blaine, but he was certain that the man was at least being honest about the orphanage. And the old man had been right when he said that Beyond's foster parents were not equipped to deal with him. He scooped some jam out of the jar and put it in his mouth, and then picked up the notepad again. Beyond placed the pen on the paper, lifted it away, put it down again, wrote the letter **I**, scribbled it out, and then wrote it again. He continued to behave in this way for several minutes as he tried to decide what he wanted. Finally, Beyond forced himself to finish an answer and hold it up:

**I'll go.**

"Good," Blaine said. He smiled. "There's just one more thing I need to discuss with you. All Wammy's children, as a matter of precaution, assume a nickname, a pseudonym. Yours will be 'Backup'."

**But I like my real name**, Beyond protested.** Why can't I just be Beyond Birthday?**

Blaine gave Beyond another one of those looks that seemed to be an attempt at sympathy. "I'm sorry, Backup," he said. "That's just the way it is. If someone were to find out your real name, they might use it to hurt you."

A mental film of Martha Kent crying flashed through Beyond's mind, crushing any attempt at a rebuttal to Blaine's comment.

**All right. I'll be Backup**, he wrote.

"Good." Blaine smiled again. "One question, Backup – why are you sitting like that? Isn't it a bit awkward?"

Beyond was crouching on the chair, his knees drawn up to his chest. Out of all of the ways of sitting that he had tried, this was his favorite. He picked up the notepad and pen again and wrote:

**It's comfortable.**

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

I always imagined Beyond as being very L-like even before he started actively trying to imitate him.

That conversation was very difficult to write, because of the fact that B writes to communicate instead of talking.

Fredrick Ronin is the only person in Beyond's kindergarten class whose last name is a real word.

- these facts brought to you by yours truly -

Thanks to NoWaitAuthor for beta-reading.

I know some people have been wondering when the next chapter of _Mello, Change the World_ will be up. Don't worry. It'll be up in the next few days.

Currently listening to: Sentenced - My Sky Is Darker Than Thine


	4. Wammy's House

"So you're really leaving, huh?"

No answer.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Still no answer.

"Hey, freak! Say something!"

Beyond scribbled on the notepad that lay on the pillow of his bed and held it up in the older boy's face:

**I cannot speak. You are aware of this.**

Joshua Jonesville's face twisted into an expression of annoyance. "Well, write, then," he ordered. Beyond hunched over a little more and turned back to packing his small suitcase with the few clothes he had. Most of the room was taken up by his sketches and books. "You're leaving for good? Hey, answer me!"

**Yes, I am**, Beyond wrote, not even looking at the notepad as his hand moved the pen across it.

The two other children in the house, Joshua and Janice Jonesville, had not taken very well to the addition of Beyond to their family. Joshua, at thirteen, was six years older than Beyond, while Janice was twelve. They were very close, and thus resented what they perceived as an attempt to disrupt their relationship with the rest of the family.

Beyond supposed that their dislike of him also stemmed from his inherent weirdness and inability to communicate properly. When he had first arrived at the house, Joshua and Janice were not aware that he was mute, and so they apparently thought he was ignoring them on purpose. They also seemed to think it was strange that Beyond didn't want to leave his room, or play sports, or really do anything at all that involved other people.

Of course, Janette had forced Beyond into some painfully inept attempts at conversation with the two of them. These usually ended in Joshua or Janice yelling at Beyond for being (accidentally) rude. He didn't try to upset them; it just happened. Needless to say, they didn't like him at all, but the real hatred started about a month after he moved in.

Joshua and Janice had managed to sneak into Beyond's room while Janette was introducing a reluctant Beyond to a relative of hers. They had found his medical sketches and showed them to Janette, saying that Beyond was some sort of psychotic serial killer.

Beyond knew they were glad to be rid of him.

"Hey, Josh, what are you doing in _his_ room?"

Joshua's sister, Janice, came into the room, blowing a large bubblegum bubble. She was an avid gum-chewer, and would do it even between bites at dinner.

"He's leaving," said Joshua. "Going to some insane asylum."

**I am not going to an insane asylum**, wrote Beyond. **I am going to an orphanage in England. Even if I were going to a place for the mentally ill, it would not be called an 'insane asylum'. Psychiatric hospitals have advanced greatly since the days of Bethlehem Royal Hospital. **He dragged his suitcase off of the bed and placed it on the floor.

Janice snorted. "Whatever. No place with half a brain would accept a psycho like you," she said. "You'd probably kill all of them within a year. Oh well, better them than us."

Beyond placed his jam jar next to the suitcase and picked up the notepad. **I have already told you repeatedly that I do not, and have no inclination to, kill others**, he wrote. **Also, it's impossible for an establishment to possess half a brain, or indeed any brain at a**

He didn't finish writing, because Joshua knocked the notepad out of his hand. "Just don't come back here," Joshua said.

Beyond bit his thumb and bent down to pick up the notepad. At that moment, Janette came through the door of Beyond's room.

"Oh, hello Josh, hello Jan," she said when she saw her two children. Then she turned to Beyond, who was straightening up. "Are you packed, Beyond?"

Since he had lost his pen when Joshua knocked the pad out of his hand, Beyond simply nodded yes.

"Good," said Janette. "Mr. Baxter is waiting outside."

Beyond shuffled over to the window and peeked out of it. There was a car parked in the driveway, and a man was standing next to it. He could just barely read the letters over his head that identified him as Anthias Blaine.

"Is he leaving now?" Janice asked hopefully. "For good?"

"Yes, Janice, he is," Janette said. "I want both of you to say goodbye to Beyond."

Joshua made a face. "Goodbye, freak."

"Yeah," Janice said.

"Josh! Jan! Be polite!"

Beyond quietly picked up his jam jar and secured it under his arm. He picked up his suitcase and half-dragged it past Joshua and Janice, who were now arguing with their mother.

They were better off without him, Beyond decided. From what he could tell, they had been reasonably happy before the addition of himself to the family. Now they argued all the time – mostly about things related to Beyond.

He wasn't exactly happy here either, of course. Maybe he'd finally fit in at this Wammy's House place. It sounded better than what he had now, anyway.

Beyond had a little trouble lugging his suitcase down the stairs into the sitting room. About halfway down, it slipped out of his hands and tumbled down the stairs along with his jam jar. The jam jar, to Beyond's amazement, remained intact after hitting the floor at the bottom.

Oh, well. At least he wouldn't have to carry the suitcase the rest of the way down. That was good, wasn't it? He took a step forward, tripped, and fell down the last few stairs, landing flat on his face next to his jam jar.

"Beyond, are you all right?"

Beyond heard someone come down the stairs. He rolled over. Janette was standing over him, looking concerned. Joshua and Janice were peeking over the railing, laughing silently.

"Are you all right?" Janette repeated.

It was a rather stupid question to ask, Beyond thought as he checked himself for injuries. A person who had just fallen down a flight of stairs had a low chance of being completely unharmed. Fortunately, Beyond discovered that, aside from a bloody nose, he wasn't hurt. His elbow ached a little, as he had hit on the floor when he fell, but that was just bruising and would go away quickly.

"Beyond, are you hurt?"

Beyond shook his head. He stood up slowly, collected his jam and suitcase, and headed for the door again. Janette followed him outside, to where Blaine was waiting by a blue sedan.

"Hello," Blaine said when he saw Beyond. "Is everything set?"

Janette nodded. "That's everything he has," she said, indicating Beyond's suitcase. Beyond opened his nearly-empty jam jar and scooped up some of the jam stuck to the bottom with his finger.

"Right," Blaine said. "I'll call you if there's anything else we need to talk about concerning B."

Beyond sucked on his fingers thoughtfully as Blaine opened the trunk. He picked up his suitcase and placed it in the back, and Blaine closed the trunk again. The old man turned to him.

"All right, B," he said. "Time to go."

"Goodbye," Janette said. Beyond screwed the cap back onto his jam jar and opened the car door. As he climbed into the back seat, Blaine stopped him.

"I'd rather you sat in the front, B," he said. "In case we have to communicate. It'll be a lot easier to see what you write."

Beyond fiddled with the top to the jam jar, unscrewing it and putting it back on several times. He didn't want to sit in the front; he always sat in the back seats of cars because there was a lot more space. It felt less suffocating.

"I'll get you some jam on the way," Blaine offered, pointing at Beyond's nearly-empty jam jar.

Slowly, reluctantly, Beyond slid out of the seat and moved to the front passenger seat. He could sit there until Blaine got him jam, and then he would move to the back again. It would work out fairly well…

Blaine got in the car and started it up. He backed out of the driveway, and in a moment they were out of the neighborhood and heading down Laurel Canyon Boulevard.

"We'll be at the airport in half an hour, Backup," Blaine said as he drove. "Not counting the stop for your jam."

Beyond pulled out his notebook and fished a pen out of the cupholder in between the seats. **I would prefer it if you would continue to call me 'B'**, he wrote. **I do not like the name 'Backup'.**

Blaine was silent for a moment, and Beyond could tell that he was thinking. Finally, he smiled a little. "Sounds reasonable," he said.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

The plane ride to England was horrible. Beyond had never been on a plane before, and he quickly discovered that he definitely _didn't_ enjoy it. He knew what motion sickness was, but that didn't stop him from having nearly throwing up the jam that Blaine had bought him before they got on.

All in all, Beyond was very relieved when his feet touched the ground again.

England, was a bit like Los Angeles, California. Except, Beyond noted, without the overwhelming smog, noise pollution, and general disarray. They arrived early in the morning, and took a car from the airport. Beyond fell asleep in the back seat at some point during the ride, and the next thing he knew, Blaine was shaking his shoulder gently to wake him up.

"B, we're here," Blaine said.

Beyond sat up and detached himself from his empty jam jar, which he had wrapped his arms around as he slept. He looked out through the open door, past Blaine. Behind the old man was what looked like a concrete wall. Beyond slid out of the car, taking his empty glass jar with him.

There was a large iron gate a few feet down from where the car was parked. Beyond shuffled over to it and inspected the small plaque on the far side.

_The Wammy's House_

Putting his free hand on one of the bars of the gate, Beyond looked through them at the building inside the walls. Wammy's House was very big – larger, at least, than he'd been expecting it to be. There were a couple of children playing in the front yard. One was a boy with a green tee-shirt and brown hair; another, a girl, had blond hair that was tied into a ponytail. A second boy, also blond, sat on the steps that led up to the front doors, playing some kind of card game by himself. Beyond squinted to see their names: The first boy was 'Lester Rommane', the girl was 'Felicia Adams', and the blond boy was 'Marcus Krane'.

Marcus Krane looked up and saw Beyond staring at him from behind the gate. He said something and the other two also looked up. Beyond quickly hid behind the wall, where they couldn't see him. He wasn't sure if they were going to be mean to him, but still…he simply didn't like it when people looked at him. It made him feel uncomfortable.

Blaine unlocked the gate and pushed it open slightly. "It's all right, B," he said, apparently sensing Beyond's apprehension. "Just follow me."

Beyond edged slowly away from the wall and followed Blaine through the gates. As the distance between himself and the other children closed, he tightened his hold on the jam jar nervously until he was afraid it would shatter.

"Hey," Lester Rommane said cheerfully, waving at Blaine and Beyond. "New kid, huh?"

"Hello, Louis. Yes, B's new," said Blaine.

Lester smiled at Beyond. "Hope ya like it here," he said as Beyond nearly tripped in his haste to get through the front doors and away from the kids.

Past the doors was a sort of entrance hall with rooms on either side. Beyond peeked around the corner of the nearest doorway and saw what looked to be a playroom with several kids in it. Most of them were either talking, playing with the various toys stacked along the back corner, or watching a baseball game on a small TV set.

"This way, B," said Blaine, motioning towards the end of the hall. Beyond followed him down the hall, casting anxious glances to either side every time he passed an open room. Finally, Blaine stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway. It had a tarnished plaque that read _R. Ruvie_. The old man opened the door and indicated that Beyond should go inside.

Upon entering the room, Beyond found another old man seated behind a desk opposite the door. He wore spectacles that sat on the tip of his long nose, and had a large bald area on the top of his head that made him look almost comical. The marker above his head read:

_R o g e r R u v i e_

_8 6 8 4 9 5 2 7 5 5 9_

Roger Ruvie looked up. "Hello, Anthias," he said, as if Beyond wasn't even there. "How was Los Angeles?"

"About the same as it was last time," said Blaine. He stepped into the room and motioned for Beyond to sit in one of the chairs opposite Blaine's desk. "Did anything happen while I was away that I should - "

"Eon blew up a toilet," Roger interrupted sourly, a look of utter distain on his face. "The restrooms in the science wing will be out-of-order for the next two weeks thanks to him. And it happened about an hour after he finished his last detention for that little firestarting spree in December. Honestly, it's like he _wants_ to be in trouble every second of his life. God, I hate these children…" He shook his head and looked at Beyond, who had been crouching quietly in his seat, watching. "So, you're Backup, then."

Beyond shook his head. No, he was Beyond Birthday. B, maybe. But not Backup.

"He asked that we call him 'B'," explained Blaine. "He doesn't like 'Backup'."

"You can call him whatever you bloody well like," Roger said tiredly, putting a hand to his forehead and massaging his temple. "The name on the record is _Backup_, and unfortunately I don't have time to sit here and debate the matter with a kindergartener whose IQ is probably about fifty points higher than mine." He sighed. "Now, Backup…I'm sure Anthias has already explained it to you, but you're not to reveal your real name to anyone, and I mean _anyone_. Understand?"

Beyond nodded slowly as he fidgeted with the top of the jam jar.

"Don't pick fights with other residents, don't steal, don't backtalk to the staff – I'd tell you to use common sense, but it seems that most of the children at this orphanage are completely incapable of doing that."

Nod.

"You'll get your lesson schedule tomorrow, and you'll start on Monday. You're going to have to work hard to catch up to the rest of the class, because breaks aren't given here. Your goal is to be the best."

Another nod.

Roger pressed the tips of his long fingers together and rested his chin on the indexes. "There is one more thing we must discuss."

Beyond put his thumb in his mouth and bit it.

"The reason you're here. The reason this orphanage exists. The reason that many people sleep safely in their beds at night. L."

L? Beyond cocked his head to the side, as if to say, 'what?'.

"You have never heard of L, Backup?"

Of course he had. L, the twelfth letter of the alphabet. He held up his hand and made an 'L' sign with his fingers. Then he grabbed some paper and a pen off of Roger's desk and scribbled '**What about 'L'?**' on it.

Roger looked annoyed. "Not the letter," he said. "The detective."

**Who?**

"You've never heard of…never mind. L is a detective, Backup," said Roger. "He has solved thousands of impossible cases over the years. Few people have ever seen him or know his real name. This orphanage is his legacy."

Beyond had never heard of 'L' before. He tried to imagine what 'L' might look like, and came up with a sort of English version of Philip Marlowe. After a moment, he picked up the paper and asked, '**Do you mean that 'L' is the one who founded The Wammy's House?**'

"No," Roger said. "The orphanage was founded by an inventor named Quillish Wammy. L resided here for several years. Since then, Wammy's House has been a training ground for L's successors."

L's successors. Did that mean that L thought he was going to die soon? It was possible – Wammy's House looked like it had been around for many years, so there was no telling how old L was, even if he'd lived in the orphanage at some point.

So the reason that they had to use fake names was because one day one of them might become a famous detective like L. It made sense, in some ways, Beyond supposed. He dipped his hand into the jam jar and then remembered that it was empty.

"Backup, your ultimate goal is to surpass L. That is the goal of every child in this orphanage. Wammy's House is far more comfortable than other orphanages, but it comes at a price. In order to remain here, you must push yourself to the very limits of your abilities. If you are not willing to do that, or are not as capable as the rest of the residents, then, unfortunately, you will have to leave."

Beyond jammed his thumb in his mouth again. He didn't really want to be a detective, honestly. He didn't actually know what he wanted to be, period, and it was rather frightening to consider what the future might hold. Beyond Birthday may have been a genius, but he was still only seven years old.

But he didn't want to go back to the foster care system in Los Angeles. Joshua and Janice had told him all kinds of stories about children who ended up in foster homes where they were beaten, raped, tortured, killed, and even worse. He knew that they were just trying to scare him, but he knew that incidents like that _did_ occur from time to time. And even that small chance was enough to be disconcerting.

"Are you willing to agree to that, Backup?" asked Roger.

After a moment, Beyond wrote, in very small and neat letters, '**Yes**'.

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Blaine gave Beyond a short tour of the orphanage after Roger was done with him. Wammy's House was very well-equipped, Beyond thought as Blaine took him down the science wing, where there were several labs for various types of experiments. The place also had extensive gardens in the back, behind the main building. They were quite beautiful; Beyond had never seen so many flowers in one place before. It looked very peaceful and quiet, and he briefly imagined hiding in it and living there undisturbed for the rest of his life.

There was a running track near the gardens; Blaine told him that the relatively low number of residents at Wammy's meant that there were only three physical education classes, separated by age; Beyond was in the first group, ages seven to eleven.

Apparently, Wammy's House had two wings set aside on the second floor for the children to stay in (one wing for the boys and one for the girls). Each room was shared by two people; Beyond was rather apprehensive about who his roommate would be. He wasn't really very enthusiastic about the idea of having to share everything with another person. Hopefully, he'd at least get his own bed.

There was a cafeteria on the first floor. To Beyond's absolute delight, he learned that the ladies who made the food would put out small plastic tubs of jam to put on toast with breakfast. Having been deprived of jam for several hours now, he felt his mouth water with anticipation when he saw, through the open door behind the lunch counter, a crate full of, among other things, jam tubs.

One of the ladies, who had come out to talk to Blaine, noticed that Beyond was staring hungrily at the inside of the kitchen.

"You want something to eat?" she asked.

Beyond nodded enthusiastically. He looked up above the woman's head; her name was Winifred Tillhoffen. She looked friendly enough.

"What would you like?" asked Winifred.

Having nothing to write on to communicate, Beyond simply walked around the counter, over to the crate, and pointed at the jam tubs.

Blaine and Winifred followed him over to the kitchen. "You want me to make you some toast with jam?" Winifred asked, smiling. Beyond shook his head and pointed a bit more insistently at the strawberry jam.

"He wants the jam," Blaine said. "He'd eat it right out of the jar back at his foster home."

Winifred raised an eyebrow. "Kind of odd…but go ahead and take some. I'll remember to put out a little extra for you tomorrow morning if you want it with breakfast."

Less than five minutes later, Beyond was walking along with Blaine through one of the hallways, licking his lips, which still tasted faintly of jam. He was lugging his suitcase behind him. Blaine had offered to have someone, probably another resident, bring it up to his room for him, but Beyond had insisted on getting it himself. The thought of someone handling his belongings made him feel almost physically sick.

"So, do you like Wammy's, from what you've seen?" asked Blaine as they turned down the hallway with all the boys' bedrooms. Beyond considered for a moment. He hadn't seen much of the place, truthfully, but he thought it seemed very…almost _cozy_, in a sense. Like a safe haven. And…they had jam.

He nodded a little.

"Good," Blaine said, smiling. They stopped in front of a door marked with a _12_. "I should be going now. Roger will want me to get back to writing up reports soon." He gestured towards the door. "That's your room."

Beyond nodded again, and Blaine walked away, leaving him alone in front of the door with his suitcase. He looked up and stared at the small, tarnished _12_ on the door. What was his roommate going to be like? Would they be nice, or would they be nasty? What if they didn't like him? What if they thought he was…a freak?

He had a sudden urge to just run away. After a moment, Beyond summoned up all the courage he could, placed his hand on the doorknob, turned it, and pushed inward. Dragging his suitcase behind him, he shuffled into his new room, hoping that nobody was there.

But someone was there.

Sitting on the bed closest to the window was a boy with wild platinum blond hair and a black sweater. A book was resting in his lap; he had apparently been reading before Beyond had come in.

"Hi," he said, smiling. "I'm A."

**xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

Yes! It's A! The next few chapters will be very fun, because now I've gotten all the non-Wammy's parts out of the way.

Thanks to NoWaitAuthor for beta-reading.

I'll have a lot more time to update soon, because I'm nearly done writing my band's demo album, which has been taking up the majority of my time lately.

Review or the Deadnight Warrior will pwn you in your sleep.

You have been warned.


End file.
